


In my darkest hour

by Owari26



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, oblivious idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-20 18:03:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20679617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owari26/pseuds/Owari26
Summary: “Your powers are far too dangerous; we simply cannot allow you to exist any longer.”Betrayed by Soul Society, Ichigo finds an unlikely friend in his darkest hour.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was tired of writing angst for my demon au, so, have some more angst xD  
(I tried to write something short and funny...I failed...)

_“Your powers are far too dangerous; we simply cannot allow you to exist any longer.” _

Those words rang heavy into his brain. Ever since that day he’d met Rukia, he’d given them everything. His innocence, his youth, even his family. He’d fought for them, sacrificed his powers for the greater good. And when he finally got those powers back after months of silence, they only used him to drag him in another pointless war. 

He swung Zangetsu over his back and allowed himself a moment to catch his breath before he willed his tired body to move again. Groaning loudly, Ichigo bit through the pain, stumbling forward with a badly mangled leg. What once was smooth skin was now blackened flesh; scorched from the Reiryoku burns. He stumbled through the darkness, blood-soaked fabric clinging to his skin; wet and cold. He didn’t want to remember the look on his father’s face, but every time he closed his eyes it was all he could see. Those once warm and welcome eyes now looking at him like he was a stranger, a monster to be feared. 

“You’re not my son anymore, you’re not the child I once had.” The voice rang in his ears, cutting right through him as if his father stood right beside him, carving each word deep into his flesh. 

Rage boiled in his blood. Why him? He didn’t deserve this, not after everything he’d done for them, for people who only saw him as a substitute. That’s all he’d ever been; meaningless muscle power, an expendable pawn they could use as they pleased. And now Soul Society was done with him. They were afraid of his powers; a perfect hybrid with a near unlimited potential. He should’ve seen it coming. After all, Soul Society was built on the remnants of their own people. 

Ichigo kept going, stumbling forward foot by foot and far too weak to even use Shunpo. He had to keep going, giving up wasn’t an option. Not now, not after everything he’d done. His mind screamed out the pain as he dragged himself forward through the dark. Frantically, his eyes scanned the landscape. In the still night, he couldn’t see much but the dim glow of the Seireiti in the distance. The rapid beating of his own heart pounded in his ears as he willed his exhausted body to keep moving. Where would he even go? He had no allies and no friends anymore. 

She called herself a good friend. But one look at the girl’s face told him a different story. _That_ look; fear and disgust. Like a deer trapped in headlights every time he spoke to her. Orihime was afraid of him, of the monster he could be. She couldn’t hide the tension in her muscles, the squeak in her voice when he accidentally brushed up against her. 

He couldn’t even blame Orihime, dragged against her will into this world of monsters and nightmares. Without him, she wouldn’t even have those powers. Strength and power she didn’t even want, no wonder she hated him. 

But even Rukia? After all the things he sacrificed for her? Recklessly risking your life to save someone you hardly know apparently means nothing these days. He was willing to throw his life away for her and for what? He gave them everything and only got judgment and hate in return. 

He’d felt her blade before he saw it, and as he looked up into the eyes of its wielder, all he saw was his friend from long ago. Her eyes that were once filled with so much love and respect, were now looking at him in fear and hate. He didn’t even know what hurt more: the blade through his chest or that look on her face. A strangled scream tore through his throat. He'd loved her like a sister. How could she do this? He would never hurt her, she knew that… He kept her and everyone else safe for all those years and in the end, she wanted to kill him. _Rukia…_why?_…It was all he could think as he dragged his broken body through the endless night. _

__

Ichigo tried to move forward, his legs trembling under the strain until his foot caught behind a tree root. Groaning, he hit the dirt. He was never going to make it out alive like this. Closing his eyes, he thought about Urahara’s last words: _I’m sorry Ichigo san, but this is the best for everyone. _

__

Ichigo laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of those words. It was a broken laugh full of pain. The best for everyone except for Ichigo fucking Kurosaki off course. Maybe it was better if he just gave up. Dying like a dog in the mud, what a fitting end for a hero who saved the world at least twice. If he’d known he was going to die like this, he’d have just let them kill him instead of fighting back and murdering half of the people he once considered his friends. 

__

Maybe they were right all along, he was a monster, a merciless monster that could slaughter them with hardly any effort. Ichigo laughed again, a quiet growl in his throat; at least that ‘monster’ was the only ally he still had. Zangetsu always had his back. He wasn’t just a hollow...He was family. At first, he would fight for control every chance he got, but they settled that dispute long ago. Now they moved in unison, two halves of the same person. And that half happened to be the part everyone hated and feared. Ichigo wasn’t foolish enough to think that Soul Society would understand his bond with Zangetsu, but that wasn’t a reason to kill him? 

__

Ichigo wheezed in between coughs of blood. Every fucking Shinigami was the same, they all hated hollows. Sitting in their palaces surrounded by sekkiseki stone while the less fortunate starved in the slums. Ichigo had seen the horrors firsthand; people fighting for what little they had while the spiritually aware slowly withered away until they died for the second time. How was that even considered some kind of heaven? Calling it hell would even be merciful. Hollows weren’t that different. The strong were built on the bodies of the weak too. So, what gave them the right to feel superior? Hollows were at least honest about it; everyone knew it was kill or be killed. Soul Society was different, they lured innocent souls in with sweet words and the promise they would meet their family on the other side. Only they forgot to mention that the chance of finding your loved ones again was practically non-existent. Ichigo laughed again, this time louder; guess Kugo was right all along; it would only be a matter of time before they betrayed him. He’d refused to believe it at that time. Deep down he knew it, he knew of the secrets they held. But he was oblivious, or maybe even stupid? Foolishly hanging on to the belief that it could change, that they would change. 

__

He winced; his cheek pressed against the cold wet ground but he didn’t care. He would die here anyway. The silence around him was deafening. His head swam in the thoughts burning inside, reminders of a time when there were people around him, standing right by his side. But now he was alone. A void inside had been slowly filled with an icy cold fear that he was completely and utterly forlorn...entirely alone in all the realms. 

__

**“Yer not alone king. I’ll always stand by your side.” **His hollow spoke inside his mind. 

__

“I know” Ichigo rasped out, his breath coming in ragged shallow gasps. He was still alone but the presence of Zangetsu gave him a bit more comfort. The darkness pressed in around him, holding him in a cold embrace. 

__

Rolling to his side, Ichigo screamed as a broken rib shifted. An agonizing sob caught in the back of his throat. He didn’t want to die here all alone. He didn’t want to die... He pressed his palms against the slippery soil; cold and wet. Ichigo grit his teeth through the pain, pushing himself up on all fours. He had to get out, away from Soul Society if he ever wanted a chance to survive. They wouldn’t stop until he was dead. 

__

He sucked in a breath, collapsing back onto his side as a sharp pain shot through his chest. 

__

**“Get up Ichigo, we have to go now.” **

__

“What’s the point?” His voice cracked. “I... I have nowhere to go.” Moments passed with nothing more than the sound of his ragged breathing. Ichigo tilted his head, gazing upwards at the dark sky. The Shinigami had taken everything from him, but they also made him stronger. But even with all that power, he just wasn’t strong enough... 

__

Behind the clouds, he could faintly see the crescent-shaped moon. For a long time, he just stared at it. His whole body ached from the pain but he didn’t notice it anymore, too enraptured by the silver glow of the moon. Maybe dying under the peaceful quiet of the moon wasn’t so bad after all? 

__

Specks of light seemed to twirl and dance around it. Stars, he thought. He’d never taken the time to appreciate their eerie beauty before. Maybe somewhere in that vast sea of light specks, one of them was his mother... Yeah, he liked that idea. Maybe she would even be proud of him? 

__

With a pained gasp, he stretched his hand out, slow and careful. The stars looked so close and yet so far away at the same time. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could reach them... 

__

In the corner of his eyes, something bright and blue caught his attention. Groaning, he turned his head slightly. It was a single bright blue star. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. There it burned; fierce and all alone, it reminded him of someone. 

__

“Grimmjow...” He whispered into the silence. The one person who never feared him. The one person who respected his hollow powers. Ichigo laughed, the sound strained by the blood welling up in his throat. Funny to think how someone considered an enemy was the only person who truly accepted that side of him. 

__

If only he could see those cerulean eyes once more. “I’m sorry Grimmjow.” He groaned out. “Looks like I’m not going to be able to keep our promise after all.” 

__

**“King.”** Zangetsu began.** “There might be a way to get yer ass out of here. A way to survive.” **Zangetsu didn’t know if it would work, but they could at least try. 

__

Too tired to actually talk, Ichigo reached for the connection in his mind. “Tell me.” 

__

“Go to Hueco Mundo, king. They’ll accept us.” 

__

“Tsk.” Ichigo scoffed. “And how would we even get there?” 

__

“Use your hollow powers, King.” His hollow materialized beside him, far too low on Reiatsu, he kept flickering in and out of view. He wrapped himself around the bloody form of his wielder like he was trying to put all the broken pieces back together. He couldn’t fail his king. He had to save him. “Use me.” His hollow hissed. “You’ve always kept your powers in balance. It’s time to tip the scale.” 

__

Zangetsu bent over him until his head was resting against Ichigo’s. Smoothing a thumb along the wet streaks on his face, sliding his hand further up into the matted bloody mess of his hair. “This will have consequences. “You’ll become the monster they fear.” 

__

“I don’t fucking care anymore.” Ichigo sneered. “I AM already a monster.” 

__

Zangetsu nodded in understanding, dissolving back into his wielder’s body. 

__

With his last bit of strength, Ichigo reached for the hollow power deep inside his body. He let it flow through him; raw and powerful. Reiatsu swirled around him in a golden glow. Power flooded his veins, urging him to get up. It felt good to indulge in that much power. Bone cracked and shifted, flowing around half of his face and settling into a mask. Ichigo could feel Zangetsu’s power taking over his body, changing him in ways he could never undo again. 

__

In that moment, he instinctively knew what to do. He struggled to his feet and tore at the air before him, opening a Garganta to Hueco Mundo. He dragged his bleeding body towards the torn space in front of him. Ichigo knew he had to keep going, if he collapsed, he wouldn’t get up again. 

__

With his feet finally inside, the Garganta closed right behind him. The space around him was disorientating, nothing but darkness humming with spiritual energy. He gasped for breath, the Reishi-laden air stinging in his lungs like needles. 

__

He took a moment to collect himself before willing his aching muscles to start moving again. He hoped Grimmjow or Nel would find him on time because if he didn’t have help soon, he would either die from his wounds, or get eaten by some lowly hollow on the other side. 

__

He stumbled forward again, focusing all of his strength into forming the Reishi platform below him. Ichigo cursed, his control was already shitty at best, now it was just awful. Maintaining the platform was an impossible task in his condition and he struggled every inch of the way. After a few steps he collapsed again. He was never going to make it out alive like this, and falling into the void below him didn’t seem like a pleasant way to die. By will alone, he pushed himself back up on hands and knees. 

__

He had to keep going. 

__

He couldn’t give up...not now. 

__

Groaning, Ichigo dragged his body through the darkness, his lungs burning and heart racing to keep what little amount of blood he had still flowing. 

__

The pain burned in waves through his body. Every inch felt like miles. He had to keep going. The platform beneath him trembled with every careful step. He had to keep going forward, keep going... 

__

The numbness in his leg started to spread, threatening to give out any moment, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep going. 

__

“Fuck.” He groaned, Ichigo Kurosaki wasn’t going to die here. He was going to make it. 

__

He wasn’t dying. 

__

No, he had to just...keep going. 

__

After what felt like hours, the air before him split apart and large white walls came into view. Las Noches. That was good, he’d made it to the other side. Ichigo pulled himself to his feet and forward into the eternal dark of Hueco Mundo, the Garganta sealing behind him. He let his tired body collapse to the ground. His cheek pressed against the cold white sand. Coughing up more blood, he clenched his fists into the hard quarts sand. He’d made it...He’d fucking made it. 

__

With the last bit of energy he still had, he flared his reiatsu, hoping someone would find him on time. He could only hope it wouldn’t be some lower hollow trying to get an easy meal. 

__

He closed his eyes and fell into a blissful numbness as his conscious drifted away...All he had to do was wait... and maybe... just maybe... he would be safe... 

__

__

__

__

__


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some more angst :p Will Grimmjow reach Ichigo on time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so this thing developed plot (*mumbles something about Hollow king) , and a lot. I'm not done with it any time soon, and there's still plenty of angst left xD  
I want to thank all the people who left kudos and subscribed, it was a lot more than I expected :D
> 
> I'm so sorry for the English slang. It's a reference to my dear friend RookandHeron ;-)

Grimmjow considered himself a relatively laid-back person. Sure, not everyone agreed with that, hell; everyone only saw him as a hot-blooded asshole, but most of those people didn’t matter to him anyway. Still, even for him, some things were just too untroubled. The last interesting that happened here in this fucking sandbox was the Quincy war, but that felt like ages ago. 

He turned onto his side so he could stare at the ceiling again. “_The great Sexta Espada”_, Grimmjow scoffed. He hated to admit it, but he was bored. Nothing held meaning here. Surrounded by meaningless white walls and the few remnants of that bastard. _Aizen. _A shiver ran over his body at the thought and he couldn’t stop the flood of memories washing over him. A damn shinigami, walking across the sands with a certain pride as if he owned the place. It had stirred something inside him all those years ago, an outsider acting like he was better; like he was a G_od_ walking amongst mortals and the Espada were just his mere servants. Grimmjow refused to bow down to him. It had cost him an arm but that was a price he was willing to pay at that time. 

Now he knew better. It wasn’t about defying Aizen. It was about Kurosaki, about their fight, Kurosaki was his to defeat and there wasn’t a single soul in all the realms that could stop him from achieving that. Not even this so-called God. 

And oh hell, how that shinigami brat had gotten under his skin. From the moment those eyes locked onto his; angry, defiant, _burning_. That gaze had the power to carve deep into him, cutting him up piece by piece. Just the thought of those eyes drove him crazy. That’s all he’d ever wanted. The only thing that mattered in his miserable hollow life. To see that _look_. The side of Kurosaki nobody else had ever seen. That sharp gleam of a bloodthirsty monster; hidden deep inside those warm brown eyes. It demanded respect and promised pain if you ever dared to cross him. 

Grimmjow sighed, even now, after all that time those piercing brown orbs had never left him. Every night they showed up in his dreams like a haunted nightmare. A cruel reminder that apparently Kurosaki was the only one that made him give a shit. 

After the war, Grimmjow had thought about it a few times. Go back to the living world, kick up a fuss, see if those damn Shinigami still had some bite left. Grimmjow didn’t know what exactly stopped him from ever going back. Maybe it was his pride or maybe it was the promise of a certain someone...The promise that he would come back to finish their fight... But in the end, he had no real excuse and he was left with a deafening silence. 

He slid a hand to the scar on his chest, the edges raw and jagged despite it being years ago. But that was all in the past now, guess promises don’t mean shit after all. Kurosaki left and never looked back. He couldn’t even blame the boy, there was nothing here to fight for in this dying world. He was just a hollow, and that was all he’d ever be. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, Grimmjow focused on his breath. Ribs expanding with a deep slow inhale as fingers traced the edge of the black void in his stomach. He held the air there for a moment before he let it go, feeling the tension drain from his body. 

He opened his eyes again but the thoughts wouldn’t stop swirling in his head. 

_“Hollow”_. Grimmjow hissed between clenched teeth. The word like an ancient curse. Grimmjow slid his fingers over the edge, the motion slow and controlled. His heart pounded in his chest. Hollow didn’t mean he couldn’t feel emotions like everyone else thought. He tensed up again, his fingers scraping just under the rim of that black void. Hollow...Like a shell holding in a thousand waves of feels. Until it all got too much and the hollowness felt like millions of quartz sand crystals wedged up in between his soul and body; scraping him raw from the inside out. 

Grimmjow dipped his whole hand inside with a sudden need to destroy. A broken moan tore through his throat and he eased his hand slowly back out. 

Grimmjow let out a huffed breath and he snarled. “Tsk, pathetic!” He was pathetic... He tilted his head up, frustrated by his thoughts. He just wanted to do something. 

The moonlight streamed in through a window, painting the room in a clouded grey. Just another reminder that everything in his life was insignificant and dull. Pushing himself up from the bed, he considered his options. Maybe he could hunt down some lower hollows and have some fun? His hands itched with the need to slash through something, _anything. _In the past, it had always brought him joy. Giving in to that carnal desire and just _hunt. _Mindlessly tearing through an adjuchas; smearing blood and gore all over these sands. There was a time when that felt good, flexing his power and asserting his dominance. But what is power when you’re the strongest one? When there is no struggle for victory? 

But none of that mattered, nothing here could give him a real challenge, _fuck_, none of it would cure the strange ache he felt deep in his heart. 

With a sigh, he flopped back down again. Nothing truly mattered anymore... But that ache, the _hunger _for something worthy throbbed deep in every scar littered across his body. 

With a jolt, Grimmjow bolted upright. 

That... 

_That!_

THAT FUCKING REIATSU! 

Swinging his attention to the outside, he focused on that reiatsu signature. One he could recognize everywhere. Fucking Kurosaki, showing up here after all that time. Blood thundered through his veins as he gripped his hand around Pantera. His teeth ached with the need to sink deep into the flesh of that damn brat. He was going to show him exactly what it meant to keep him waiting for so long. 

Grimmjow roared his excitement and took off, running as fast as he could. That fucking brat...years gone by without a single sign until now. He couldn’t believe it. Fuck, this couldn’t be happening. Why now? His chest heaved with the sudden rush of adrenaline. He felt as if his blood suddenly was on fire after years of being nothing more than smoldering embers. He hated it but he’d missed the brat. Years gone by without a word and he wanted nothing more than to pick up where they left. Regardless of Kurosaki’s reasons, all that mattered now was him and Kurosaki and the sound of their swords clashing. That familiar ring of steel scraping against steel while the air around them hummed heavy with their reiatsu. He could even feel Pantera buzzing in his head with excitement. 

Suddenly the blood in his veins stopped and he froze. Something was wrong. This wasn’t right. That familiar wall of reiatsu was gone, nothing more than a flickering light somewhere in the distance. 

_What the hell._

This wasn’t good, Kurosaki wasn’t supposed to be so weak. 

“Grimmjow! Did you feel that?” Nel screamed at him from further down the hall, her eyes wide with glee. “That’s Ichigo! He came back, just like he promised!” 

“Don’t just stand there!” Grimmjow bellowed, darting past her. “Follow me!” 

She tilted her head, wondering briefly what all the hurry was about, then followed after him. 

Once they were outside the walls, Grimmjow’s eyes flicked across the horizon, Kurosaki was still a good distance away and they weren’t alone out here. He could feel the reiatsu signature of several other hollows lurking around. 

“Pick up the pace Nell,” he hissed. He couldn’t afford to lose time. 

She stopped and faced him. “Will you tell me what the hell is going on? Why are you in such a rush?” 

Grimmjow clenched his teeth and growled. “Did you even bother to think why his reiatsu faded so fast?” 

She blinked, reaching out for Ichigo’s reiatsu. “I can barely sense him anymore. What does that even mean?” She paused, the realization knocking the air from her lungs. “He’s...” She couldn’t even finish that thought. 

Without further words, they both blurred into Sonido. 

Grimmjow’s eyes flashed across the sands, desperately looking for a sign of life. Grimmjow was aware of the dangers in this desert; hungry Adjuchas roamed these dunes and Kurosaki had just sent them all an invitation for an easy meal. Thinking about finding Kurosaki; torn apart by a hollow had him peel his lips back in an angry snarl. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. A shudder ran down his spine. What if they actually were too late? He clenched his fists, pushing himself to go faster. 

Precious minutes crawled by until he spotted something on the horizon. “There!” He pointed towards a black heap. He wasn’t moving... Something tightened in his chest, he couldn’t be...? Seeing him there lifeless...his old adversary... It hurt. His stomach twisted into knots and he slowed down. 

Grimmjow came to a halt, everything around him silent except for the faint hum of reishi in the air. He turned his head, a faint ripple in the sand catching his attention. What the hell was that? Another wave glided across the harsh sand. It was moving towards Kurosaki. Before he could react, a gaping maw full of razor-sharp teeth burst from the ground, moving right towards the fallen soul reaper. 

A wave of nausea hit Grimmjow. He wasn’t going to reach him in time. What could he possibly do? Was he even still alive? 

Considering the situation, Grimmjow had only one option left. Without time to think further, he lifted his hand and focused all of his reiatsu in the palm of his hand. He didn’t believe in a God, but he sure as hell prayed that his aim wasn’t off. A burning red beam shot across the dunes, obliterating everything in its path. 

Grimmjow lunged back into motion, skidding across the sand through plumes of burning smoke. 

His dead heart sank into his boots at the sight before him. His Cero had ravaged the landscape and midst all of that debris lay what remained of the creature that tried to eat Kurosaki, its sickly purple innards splattered all over the sand. 

“Tsk.” Grimmjow scoffed, “That’s what you get for trying to eat MY prey.” 

Standing amidst the carnage, Grimmjow drew in a shuddering breath. He couldn’t sense Kurosaki. He was gone... There was nothing left but smoldering remains. Blood was splattered over the ground like spilled paint, hues of red and purple staining the pale sands. 

Years gone by since _that _day. After their big fight, Grimmjow was left defeated and broken, but instead of letting him crash, Ichigo had lowered him to the ground. Way too careful for someone he was supposed to hate. For a long time, he hated Kurosaki for it, for pitying him. But now he understood it. 

He swallowed harshly. At least he’d given Kurosaki a better ending than being eaten. But why did it hurt so much? 

Kurosaki was gone and there was nothing he could do. Maybe if he’d gotten here on time? Why couldn’t things just go right for once? 

For what felt like a long time, Grimmjow just stared at the spot. There was nothing left, not even a body to bury. He wanted to hate Kurosaki for leaving him for so long, for dying here but he couldn’t. All he felt was an empty void spreading out. 

From behind him, Nell lifted a hand to rest on his back, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. 

“At least you gave him a warrior’s death.” She drawled; her voice strained. It was the only comfort she could give at that moment. Pain flared up in her chest but she couldn’t let herself fall apart. She had to stay strong for Grimmjow. 

“Ichi...” She rasped out; her breath strangled up in a sob. She didn’t know what to do. 

There was nothing she could even do. Ichigo had done so much for her and in the end, she couldn’t even repay that debt. Nell stood there, her feet heavy and glued to the sand. 

She gritted her teeth through a sob, _it wasn’t fair..._

She’d asked him once. Somewhere after the war, when enemies were turned into allies. 

_Will you stay Ichigo? Or will you stay away forever?_

_He’d just smiled solemnly and said: I made a promise._

And now he was here. Close. And yet, so far away. 

“Asshole!” Grimmjow screamed into the silence. No, this couldn’t be the end. This wasn’t their end. “You promised me a fight, but you just had to go and die didn’t you.” This was it, after everything they’d been through. Kurosaki Ichigo was gone... It didn’t feel good, it didn’t feel right at all. 

Those defiant eyes he wouldn’t see again, just the thought alone made the hole in his stomach feel like a gaping void. The only thing in his life that made him feel something, _anything_, and it was gone. _Fuck. _He hated this. It wasn’t fair, he’d made a promise... He... 

This wasn’t... His stomach twisted into angry knots knowing he could never fight him again. 

His heart pounded in his chest and Grimmjow just knew this was the end. 

Kurosaki was... 

“Let’s go back.” Grimmjow grumbled out, pushing his suffocating thoughts to the background. “There’s nothing left here anyway.” He turned to leave. A part of him feeling like something had been violently carved from his chest. He dug his nails into his palms until blood dripped down from his fingers. 

“You okay Grimm?” Nell questioned, wiping away the tears from her face with the sleeve of her black vest. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He flashed her a weak smile, then turned his back to her. He felt so fucking hollow, he couldn’t even explain it to her. He’d half expected her to pressure him into talking but she didn’t. 

With his hands stuffed in his pockets, Grimmjow started to walk back towards Las Noches, his eyes gazing somewhere in the distance until a weak groan snapped his attention back to the carnage behind him. 

It couldn’t be? His eyes frantically searched for any movement but there was nothing. A gush of wind carried a piece of torn black fabric across the dunes. Grimmjow watched it twirl in the wind and he huffed out a breath; “damn you Kurosaki...” 

“What the hell...” He snapped his head to the side. This time he heard it clearly, another groan coming from behind a dune. Grimmjow rushed forward, he didn’t even know what he would find. He started to laugh wildly, almost cackling. Kurosaki wasn’t gone! “Nell, I found him!” Grimmjow roared, dashing over the last dune between him and the noise he’d heard. 

Grimmjow stopped dead the moment his eyes focused on the black, blood-covered heap before him. He slid further down over the sand until he got close enough to see whatever the hell _that_ was. 

“K-Kurosaki?” Grimmjow began. “Holy shit. Is that you, you fucking bastard?” Grimmjow didn’t know what he was going to find but it sure as hell wasn’t anything like this. It looked like Kurosaki but his usual short spiky hair was now long and matted; blood and mud clinging to the once vibrant orange locks. A single horn sprouted from the side of his head, flowing down into some kind of weird mask but that wasn’t even the strangest part. His leg looked like someone had tried to ground him into mincemeat, what the hell happened to him? 

When he reached Ichigo, he was lying on his side, coughing up blood in between heaves of breath. He crouched down before the Soul reaper, or what resembled him because he wasn’t even sure what he was now. 

“The fuck happened to you, asshole.” Grimmjow demanded, pushing some of Ichigo’s hair from out of his face so he wouldn’t vomit on it, not that it would make much of a difference. 

“G-Grimm...Nice to see you too, you big blue cockwomble...” Ichigo grunted out, looking like all the blood had drained from his face, but still managing to flash him a weak smug grin. 

“Fuck you too, Kurosaki!” Grimmjow bit out, but he couldn’t completely hide the joy in his voice, fuck, he was happy to see Kurosaki was still alive. “You look like shit but you’re still a smug asshole. What the hell are you even doing here?” A wave of relief washed over him. If he still had enough bite left to be an annoying brat, he wasn’t going to die just yet. 

He took a closer look at Ichigo’s leg and almost threw up. It smelled and looked like burnt flesh; pieces of black, torn muscle dangled from the gaping wound. It wasn’t even the wound itself that made him recoil in disgust, but the Reiatsu he could feel leaking from it; Shinigami had done this... 

Pulling in a harsh rush of air, Ichigo reached up to clench a bloody fist into Grimmjow’s jacket. It took him a moment, but he managed to crack open his eyes and focus on Grimmjow’s face. “I- I didn’t know where else to go.” Ichigo rasped out before closing his eyes again, his hand fell away, smearing blood across Grimmjow’s chest. 

“Oi, Kurosaki, stay with me!” Grimmjow’s eyes widened, no...no, he wouldn’t let him die. “Oi, dipshit, don’t you dare die on me, I'll kill you if you do.” Dread crept up along his spine, settling itself in his thoughts; he didn’t know how to fix this... Kurosaki looked so vulnerable, so weak. 

Grimmjow wrapped his arms around Ichigo and picked him up bridal style, careful not to do too much extra damage. He held him close to his chest. Everything about this was wrong, Kurosaki felt so light. 

Just as he was getting up with Ichigo in his arms, Nel appeared next to him. She took one look and fell to her knees in the sand, her face white as a sheet. “Ichi...” 

“Damn it Nell, get up! He’s still breathing but barely.” Grimmjow hissed. “Go warn Harribel, I’ll bring him to Las Noches. 

“I-I’ll go inform her.” She swallowed thickly, scrambling to her feet. She glanced back one more time before disappearing into a blur of Sonido. 

Grimmjow looked down at the Soul reaper in his arms. He gritted his teeth: he really looked like he’d been through hell and back. He was drenched in blood and from the smell of it, not all of it was his own. In a rush of air, he blurred into sonido, careful not to move too fast, he didn’t want to aggravate his wounds even further. 

With a groan, Ichigo’s eyes cracked open again. “G-Grimm...I can walk...” His head lolled forwards until it was resting against Grimmjow’s chest. “Just lemme...” Ichigo mumbled against the fabric, his breath way colder than it should be. 

“Oh shut the hell up, Kurosaki.” Grimmjow sneered. “I’m gonna carry you and you’re going to be grateful for it.” 

Grimmjow tightened his grips on Kurosaki, nails digging painfully in his skin just enough to keep him somewhat conscious. 

Grimmjow had so many questions. What exactly could have attacked Kurosaki? Why? Was it because of the way he’d changed? Did he turn into a hollow? 

But the only thing that really mattered now was Kurosaki in his arms. He had to keep him safe, he had to bring him to Las Noches. 

Grimmjow could feel Kurosaki drifting away again, his head heavy against his chest. If he survived, he would definitely kick his ass for leaving them. 

Las Noches came in sight and Grimmjow felt a bit more relieved. 

The only thing he could do now was saving Kurosaki... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry....I ruined it all... You all hate me now :p
> 
> I promised a happy ending, keep that in mind ;-)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had brought Ichigo to Las Noches and laid him down in one of the big halls where Nell and Harribel already stood waiting for him. Nell had tried to use her healing powers while Grimmjow stopped the bleeding with the rags they’d collected. A few minutes later, Harribel had gone on her way to Szayel’s lab to get the reishi bandages the pink-haired Espada had developed years ago. 
> 
> Which led them to the situation they found themselves in now: three Arrancar hunched over the body of a soul reaper more resembling a regurgitated hollow snack than an actual person. 
> 
> Or read as: Ichigo is bleeding out and Grimmjow is trying to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a while xD  
Miss Rona has been a bitch, work has been overwhelmingly busy and I didn't have much spare time to write.  
But have an extra-long chapter to make it up to you guys.   
All the parts in cursive are inner world shenanigans. 
> 
> Special thanks to Morgan for checking some things over, thanks fren ;-)

Crimson streaks glistened on the white marble tiles, sticky and cooling on the floor. Grimmjow stared at his hands; soaked in the blood of his former enemy. _Kurosaki’s blood. _

Fuck, there was just so much blood... 

It smelled human and hollow all at once. 

The scent hung heavy in the air, hitting the back of his throat like the drag of a cigarette, harsh and dripping with a foul bitterness. 

Too late, Grimmjow realized what it did to him. His stomach churned at the thought, but his instincts clawed beneath his skin, eager to destroy. He bit his lip, his teeth aching with the need to sink into the prey before him, _his prey._

No! This was wrong; he shook his head to get rid of the thought but his body betrayed him. “Fuck.” He groaned as he knelt down next to the unconscious Soul Reaper. His fingers burned with a longing to stretch into claws, to dig into the meat before him. How could his hands itch with that need? He asked himself. Suddenly he felt trapped, the walls too confining, closing in on him. He licked his lips, tasting the blood in the air and he damn near moaned at the sensation. His teeth felt too big and pointy for his mouth and he felt locked, trapped in his body while his release paced beneath the surface of his skin like a caged animal. 

Grimmjow held back a snarl and forced his attention away from those destructive urges. Kurosaki was a fucking wreck, drenched in blood and gore, and all the sand and dirt he’d rolled in made it even worse. The mauled mess of his leg was dark with congealing blood, making Grimmjow doubt if his leg could even be saved. 

Something tightened in his throat when he saw Kurosaki like this; unmoving and wounded. _So vulnerable..._

He shouldn’t give a fuck if he died. After all, it was just one less Soul Reaper. But Kurosaki wasn’t just a Shinigami, he was more than that. He’d seen firsthand how strong he was, he felt it every time their swords clashed and he wanted to feel it again. 

Fuck, he couldn’t just watch how he died in a puddle of his own blood like some weak pathetic human. 

They were supposed to fight until neither of them could even stand. Grimmjow wanted to punch that fucking cocky grin of Ichigo’s face, wanted to be the one to end whatever the hell it was they’d started all those years ago. 

Back then, all he’d ever needed was to carve his sword into Kurosaki’s chest, smear his blood all over the dunes of Hueco mundo and watch as the life drained from those eyes he hated so much. 

But not so soon... 

Not like this. 

“Do something!” Grimmjow snapped, gritting his teeth through his anger. 

“I-I can’t Grimm, it’s not working.” Nel stammered, her eyes stinging with tears. She collapsed back on the floor. She’d done everything she could but her healing powers just weren’t strong enough to counter that strange Reiatsu seeping from the wounds. She’d felt it burning her skin as her hands worked to apply her saliva to the wounds. She knew little of what had happened to Ichigo but she’d understood full-well that this sort of Reiatsu didn’t come from anything she knew. She couldn’t even sense if it was hollow or shinigami or maybe from an unknown enemy. That thought struck fear in her heart, what in all the realms could possibly be strong enough to take down a shinigami as powerful as Ichigo? 

“Where the fuck is Harribel?” Grimmjow asked, twisting around to see if she had arrived already. 

“She’s on her way.” Nell said, grabbing Grimmjow’s wrist to get his attention. “but I need you to stay calm. Keep pressure on that chest wound!” 

With a shuddering breath, Grimmjow turned his attention back to the gaping wound in Ichigo’s chest. He reached up to run a hand through Ichigo’s matted mess of hair, his palm brushing up against his forehead. “You still breathing Kurosaki? His pale skin felt cold and sweaty. This wasn’t good at all. 

Grimmjow looked back down at his hand on Ichigo’s chest and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Years of surviving in this harsh world couldn’t even prepare him for this. He hadn’t meant to see Kurosaki die; not like this. There was no epic last fight, no confident remarks, no honor. 

Kurosaki absolutely looked awful, so pale that he almost looked greyish. For a moment, Grimmjow thought maybe he was gone, but a rattling inhale of air was enough to make him sigh in relief. 

Grimmjow pressed the rag against the open wound to stop the flowing surge of blood, the dark crimson soaking the white fabric. 

With every inhale of air Grimmjow kept tasting that sharp metallic scent on his tongue. There was a strange bitterness to it, almost foul. It reminded him of days long gone, when he was just an adjuchas surviving on the flesh of other hollows. That familiar taste of cursed and hollow invaded his senses and only brought more questions. Was Kurosaki turning into a hollow? Judging from the weird bone slowly spreading from his jaw and creeping up the side of his face it certainly looked like it, though it looked more like it was slowly spreading, almost changing him instead of consuming him like it was supposed to be. 

He heard footsteps approaching quickly as he sat there hunched over Kurosaki’s body. 

“About damn time!” He snapped, turning his head towards Harribel. 

From the dark corridor, Harribel hurried across the pristine white tiles with an effortless grace, seemingly unimpressed by Grimmjow’s attitude. 

She didn’t respond right away to Grimmjow’s remark, instead she narrowed her eyes, staring down at Ichigo’s form as she placed the bundle in her arms next to him. 

“Nobody’s been to Szayel’s lab after the war, it’s a miracle I could even find these.” She remarked, her lips drawn slightly taut. 

When Grimmjow only huffed in response, she continued. “How is he?” 

Grimmjow touched Ichigo’s forehead with his hand, keeping pressure on his chest with his other. Ichigo’s brows scrunched together in discomfort, a sign that he was still fighting despite the condition he was in. 

“He lost a lot of blood.” Grimmjow said, sounding more tired than he wanted to. “Nel’s powers don’t work. I-I just don’t know if the fucking bastard will even make it.” He gestured towards Ichigo’s leg, the sight of it making him recoil in disgust. “Maybe it’s better if we...” He didn’t even dare to finish that sentence. He was a fucking coward; he couldn’t even give his adversary a worthy death. 

Harribel crouched down next to Grimmjow, bringing herself to his height. “We are not giving up.” She stated, her voice firm. 

She lifted her hand, squeezing Grimmjow’s shoulder, her fingernails digging in hard. “You can’t give up.” 

“I just don’t know how to fix this.” Grimmjow muttered out, turning his gaze away from her piercing green eyes. 

He had brought Ichigo to Las Noches and laid him down in one of the big halls where Nell and Harribel already stood waiting for him. Nell had tried to use her healing powers while Grimmjow stopped the bleeding with the rags they’d collected. A few minutes later, Harribel had gone on her way to Szayel’s lab to get the reishi bandages the pink-haired Espada had developed years ago. 

Which led them to the situation they found themselves in now: three Arrancar hunched over the body of a soul reaper more resembling a regurgitated hollow snack than an actual person. 

_When Ichigo opened his eyes, he found himself on the ground surrounded by the strange buildings he came to know so well. Wait...Why was he in his inner world?_

_With a groan, he managed to slowly turn his head. Even that slight movement sent a wave of nausea through his stomach. Slowly, he pushed himself on all fours, his mouth dry and sticky with saliva. Ichigo swallowed harshly, every move he made sent flares of pain up his skull like someone stabbed a sword through it. _

_Once he got to his feet, he ran a hand through his hair, his other gripping his skull in a feeble attempt to stop the spinning. _

_“Zangetsu, why am I here?” Ichigo questioned, turning his head around to take a look at his surroundings. _

_When he was only met with a strange pressing silence, he dusted his pants off and took a cautious step forward. “Great.” He mumbled. “Off course the pale ass bastard isn’t around when I need him.” _

_Ichigo liked to think he’d spend enough time in his inner world to know what he could expect, but the more he let his eyes roam the more he got the feeling something was wrong._

_Everything looked familiar, the same blue skyscrapers, the same overcast sky and yet,_

_Something felt off._

_And he couldn’t explain why._

_Pushed forward by the need to find some answers and maybe have a talk with Zangetsu, Ichigo started to walk towards the buildings._

_The silence swarmed over him, wrapping itself around him like a warm and cozy blanket. This absence of noise should normally frighten him but after everything that had happened, it was rather welcome. Ichigo took a deep breath, his feet almost gliding across the rough concrete. Maybe if he kept focusing on the silence he could forget about this day. The whispers in his mind where surprisingly quiet, no more visions about blood and betrayal, just,_

_Silence._

_Complete and utter nothingness. It soothed his soul in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He lifted his hand to his chest, remembering something about being stabbed, but his fingers only found smooth skin. He felt relieved and he couldn’t exactly point out why. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be in here. He had the sudden urge to just stay and forget about the outside world. _

_A cold shiver ran over his spine, making him stop his movement. He whirled around, his eyes scanning quickly for any movement but he was only met with,_

_Silence._

_Ichigo ran a hand through his hair and sighed, maybe it was just a bit too peaceful here. This place was starting to get on his nerves, and where the hell was Zangetsu even hiding?_

_Like hell was he going to let this silence get to his nerves, he wasn’t afraid of being alone. He shook the tension off and started to walk forward again. Wait. Weren’t these buildings closer? His skin itched with the need to turn back but there was nothing here that moved or breathed besides himself. _

_“Oh, fuck this.” He murmured, his words echoing through the stillness. Ichigo resumed his way towards the skyscrapers rising in the distance, that strange itch digging deeper in his skin with every step he took._

_Ichigo walked for what seemed like hours, accompanied by nothing more than the soft crunch of his straw sandals on the dull grey asphalt. He didn’t know how long he’d been trapped in his inner world. Everything around him was still and silent. No rain, no destruction, just an endless sea of the same bluish buildings. _

_It felt all so peaceful and yet; so wrong. Ichigo stopped and turned to face one of the numerous glass walls, hoping against all odds that inspecting it would give him some insight. It towered above him like a gaping thousand-eyed monster, unblinking and unreal. The glass itself was almost mirror like; reflecting his tired face in bleak hues of azure. _

_Ichigo stared at his ghostly image, when was the last time he truly looked at himself? He’d gotten older and a lot stronger, but at what cost? _

_He averted his eyes, what good would it do to stare at an image of himself. He gave them everything and yet, he felt like a goddamn coward, but as much as he felt like he didn’t deserve any of this, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all his own fault._

_What the hell? Ichigo blinked, his eyes snapping back to the glass. He could swear he saw something move. _

_“Zangetsu, this isn’t funny, you asshole.” Ichigo snapped, his voice rumbling through the silence. He backed away from the window, keeping his eyes on the glass pane until he rounded a corner into the next street. Ichigo shook his head, he knew he was seeing things; his mind was playing tricks. He had to just keep moving, find Zangetsu in this maze and get some answers._

_Ichigo grit his teeth and kept walking, his footsteps whispering across the lifeless street. A single streetlight washed the road in an eerie sulphurous glow. _

_“Fuck.” Ichigo screamed into the gloomy darkness. He swallowed harshly, his throat suddenly feeling drier than Yamamoto’s flip flops. His eyes searched the sky but he couldn’t find anything besides gloomy black. It had been light a few moments ago. How was this even possible? _

_The street ahead vanished into infinite dark, the yellow glow of the single streetlamp fading as it snaked away across the imposing buildings. Ichigo’s skin shivered, his brain searching for a way out. Panic buzzed in his head and he couldn’t completely muffle the whimpered scream that caught in his throat. _

_Ichigo sucked in a harsh breath and stepped forward again, despite every nerve in his body screaming at him to run, to go back before it was too late. It doesn’t make sense, he told himself. It’s my own inner world, not some back alley in the shadiest district of Karakura, he kept reminding himself as he stomped off into the dark, his feet a lot surer than his composure. _

Harribel pushed herself back up from her previous crouched position, rising to her feet in one graceful move. She didn’t have much of an expression on her face, she never did besides the stern look that seemed to be glued in place, but her eyes were serious as she stared down at Grimmjow. 

“We owe our lives to Ichigo. Without him, we would’ve been slaves to the Quincy. He needs our help and we’re going to help him.” 

Grimmjow scoffed at her audacity to think she could just say that and it would mean they could magically save him. No, the world didn’t work that way, certainly not Hueco Mundo. If anything, it was survival of the fittest out in these dunes. The strongest ruled over the weak, but even then, power meant nothing if you didn’t know how to adapt to the changing harsh sands. 

A warm rush of air left his lips. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. The Quincy war had taken a lot from them but it had also thought him that strength came from struggles, from deciding not to surrender and learning how to rely on others. 

The fact that Kurosaki had end up all alone and hurt in Hueco Mundo of all places, said he probably still hadn’t learned how to have faith in the people around him. 

Grimmjow could understand that; if you were strong, you had to protect those around you. Kurosaki’s desire to protect was something he used to mock, something he couldn’t understand. If you were too weak to fight for yourself, what use did you have? 

But then al had changed and one reckless decision had left him all alone. He hadn’t been strong enough to protect them; his fraccion, his _brothers. _He was never going to forget that, nor let himself forget the despair of waking up in an empty room, his own nail marks on the wall the only companion in the suffocating silence. 

Fiddling with the rags underneath his hand where the blood-soaked fabric touched his cool fingers, Grimmjow sighed faintly. 

None of that mattered now, not anymore. Kurosaki was here and he wasn’t about to let history repeat itself. 

A longer sigh, Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed. “And how are we going to do that?’ 

“We simply do our best, that is all that matters.” She commented. Though she knew Grimmjow heard her, he didn’t reply to it right away. Instead of wasting any more time, she picked up the bandages and started to unwrap them. 

“Nel, give me a hand.” She called out. “Take over from Grimmjow and keep the pressure on that wound.” 

Nelliel moved closer to Ichigo’s unconscious body, taking a fresh cloth and pushing it down on the gaping wound. Her fingers brushed against a bloody calloused hand. “It’s okay Grimm, I got this. You can let go now.” 

Grimmjow complied, allowing Nell to shift before him so he could finally move. 

With great care and a little bit of maneuvering together, Grimmjow shifted Ichigo onto his side so he wouldn’t suffocate into his own bodily fluids, then he closed his eyes. 

After a few minutes with not even a groan in response, Grimmjow finally managed to focus on Ichigo’s reiatsu. 

He could barely sense his spiritual pressure. Gone was that feeling of unmovable reiatsu, slamming around him like he was running full speed into a wall. It used to crawl over his skin and along his spine, making every hair stand on end until blood pounded in his ears. Now it was nothing more but a faint flicker somewhere in a dark void, something that could be snuffed out easily. 

Grimmjow shuddered, pushing that thought back down again. Just thinking about it made the blood boil beneath his skin. He couldn’t even begin to imagine a world where he was denied their battle, this promise between them that had come to mean so much. He knew Kurosaki felt the same; that aching desire for a fight, the _hunger_ for blood. He might not have said it explicitly, but that look in his eyes before they turned a haunting obsidian was enough of a statement. 

Grimmjow’s expression fell, watching Kurosaki with worried eyes. He could feel Ichigo’s Reiryoku quickly getting weaker. For a moment, Grimmjow thought it might be gone, but then it spiked back up. At least that was a good sign, Kurosaki hadn’t given up just yet. 

“We need to hurry.” Grimmjow muttered under his breath. 

“Nell, help me get rid of his clothes while Grimmjow holds him.” Harribel said. “We can’t leave all the dirt and fabric in these wounds. 

Her hands, which she had placed on top of Kurosaki’s chest, started to glow golden as she activated a part of her ressurection. 

_“Hilo del agua_.” 

Immediately, water erupted from the pores on her hands and she braced herself for the drain on her Reiryoku level. Water flowed along her fingers, spreading out over and into the wound like a sentient blob of slime. 

Next to her, Grimmjow watched in a curious sort of awe that quickly morphed into an expression of grossed out horror as pieces of torn flesh and clotted blood mixed with the water and turned it into a vile pinkish stew. 

As if the sight alone wasn’t enough to make his stomach roil with nausea, the smell that hit him was even worse; the foul rotten stench of decaying flesh had been somewhat watered down at least--rather literally, actually--but that sure as shit didn't make it smell like roses, either. 

Just as Grimmjow was about to turn his head away, another pulse of golden light emanated from Harribel’s hands, engulfing Kurosaki’s chest in a haze so bright that Grimmjow had to avert his eyes. 

Harribel met his gaze for a moment, then flicked her hand in his direction. At her side, Grimmjow had about 0.2 seconds to avoid the blob of dirt and blood that came hurling his way. Chunks of flesh covered in the slimy red water of Harribel’s Hilo del agua splattered out all over the white floor like projectile vomit. Despite his cat like reflexes, Grimmjow couldn’t completely avoid the shower of Shinigami soup. 

“Gross.” Grimmjow gagged as the rotten smell hit his sensitive nose. His eye twitched when he realized there was a bloody piece of dirt stuck somewhere in between the jaw of his mask. 

“So gross.” Nell shuddered, reaching in her blouse to fish out a viscous chunk of whatever the hell it was. 

The glint in Harribel’s eyes was too gleeful to not notice. 

Grimmjow met Nell’s gaze, a wry smile forming on his face as they both silently vowed to have their revenge, queen be damned. 

“Grimmjow.” Harribel commented. “Wrap the bandages around him so Nell and I can focus on cleaning his leg.” 

“Okay.” Grimmjow murmured, trying to ignore the chunk of dirt still lodged in between his cheek and mask. Oh hell, it was sliding down even further. He grimaced, trying not to think too much about the little piece of Kurosaki sitting way too close for comfort, which he was sure was going to rot there and leave him with a nasty infection. 

He shook his head and turned his attention back to the wounds he needed to cover up. 

His hand was holding Kurosaki up while he slipped the bandage around once, then crossed It back over his chest. How was this stuff even supposed to work? It looked just like regular bandage but slightly smoother than what he was used to. 

Fingers slippery, Grimmjow looked back down at the wound in Kurosaki’s chest. Now that most of the blood and dirt had been removed, he could finally see what had happened. On the left, there was a clean stab wound that could only have been from a Zanpakuto. Probably an inch more to the right and it would’ve pierced his heart instead of slipping in between what looked like his third and fourth ribs. From the center of his chest, streaks of blackened skin seemed to bubble up and spread out like parasitic tendrils; spreading, reaching for something. The kind of wounds that had been caused by someone trying to either burn him alive or freezing his heart right out of his chest. The only thing he knew for sure; it had been pretty fucking dirty instead of a fair fight. 

Grimmjow shivered at that realization, whatever had attacked him had clearly been trying to straight-up murder Kurosaki. Made him wonder though, what kind of shit had Kurosaki gotten himself into that Soul Society not only had tried to attack him, but clearly wanted him dead? He didn’t trust Shinigami but the thought that they would slaughter one of their own just like that, one that had saved their asses at least twice, sparked a raging fire in his chest. Leaving a taste so foul in his mouth it made his stomach roil in disgust. 

Anyway, those were questions he could ask when Kurosaki was awake, if he even regained consciousness that is. 

While Grimmjow continued to wrap the bandages around Ichigo’s chest, Nelliel was busy focusing on the lesser wounds littered across Kurosaki’s arms. Once he was done wrapping up Kurosaki’s chest, he let his gaze wander towards Kurosaki’s face. 

The mask on the right side of his face and part of his jaw still seemed to slowly spread out and reform. From the looks of it, he was still turning into a hollow, but how was that even possible? A hollow transformation wasn’t slow like that. And Kurosaki wasn’t even- 

“Grimmjow.” Harribel demanded. “Hurry up with those bandages. Something is wrong with the foreign Reiatsu clinging to his leg. You have to counter it with your own.” 

“What do you mean?” Grimmjow asked, his eyes still focused on Kurosaki’s mask. 

“Grimmjow!” Harribel yelled, the urgency in her voice snapping Grimmjow’s attention back to her. “It’s eating him alive. Connect your Reiatsu with the bandages, they should work as a catalyst to restore his spiritual energy. It should be like using your pesquisa but you have to use physical contact instead of only your mind.” 

Grimmjow felt something tighten in his chest. He’d never heard Harribel raise her voice before and the fact that she did now made him all the more worried. 

Bandages. Reiatsu. He needed to focus on that. 

“Grimmjow, now!” 

*** 

_Ichigo stopped in the shadows, the heart in his chest hammering in a dizzying rush of sudden adrenaline. Ichigo grit his teeth and blinked, the world still an unchanging void that seemed to go on endlessly. _

_The kind of black that completely erased everything it touched._

_The kind of darkness that’s absolute._

_Ichigo had never been afraid of the dark before but here in his inner world where everything used to be washed in various shades of blue; reflected by the purple hue of the glass skyscrapers, it was even worse than just being scared._

_It’s the kind of fear that was instinctual. The one that came from deep within, drenching his bones with a despair he hadn’t felt since his fight with Ulquiorra._

_He whispered, “Zangetsu?”_

_Nothing._

_“Zangetsu.” _

_He tried to call his hollow into his inner world again, but it was as if he wasn’t even there. Remembering Zangetsu’s words, he sucked in a rush of breath in an attempt to calm his heartbeat, the surrounding air cold and suffocating. His hollow wouldn’t leave him alone, he promised...he-_

_He stumbled backwards, his hands reaching outwards into the dark in a desperate reach for something solid, anything_. _There was nothing when he opened his eyes, no other sound than the soft hollow thud of his feet on the asphalt. Too soft maybe. The crunch of his sandals should’ve been deafening in the silence, a loud reminder that he was still there. Instead, it was nothing more than a strangled whisper in the dark._

_Ichigo tried to move, his hands flailing, trying to find something to hold on to. Numbness spread through his limbs, every step feeling like he was knee-deep in mud._

_“Zan-” He tried to scream again; the words cut off by a stab of pain in his chest. _

_Ichigo wrapped his hands around his chest, every ragged breath he took feeling like inhaling sand._

_He had to breathe. Keep going. He wasn’t alone. He took another step and fell to the floor. Zangetsu would never leave him. He couldn’t stop the shivering. He was alone...he would die here...._

_There’s blood...and Rukia-she was the one-she stabbed him...she...._

_They all left. Betrayed him, thrown away, he was useless._

_Even his dad..._

_“Stop.” Ichigo pleaded, his voice barely a whimper. _

_Stomach flipping, Urahara’s words rang in his head. “I’m sorry, but this is the best for everyone.” _

_“Just-stop.” _

_“You’re a monster...”_

_“No... please.” Ichigo curled tight, his only movement the trembling of his limbs. _

_They’re gone, gone, he’s alone...only darkness...nothing left...he..._

_***_

“Fuck.” Grimmjow cursed. He quickly dropped himself at Ichigo’s side, grabbing his arms in an attempt to hold him down and prevent him from injuring himself with those claws. 

“He’s spasming like he got struck by lightning, what the hell happened?!” Grimmjow snapped at no one in particular, repositioning himself so he could hold Ichigo’s arms down without putting extra pressure on his chest wounds. Nelliel moved to the other side so she could hold Ichigo’s head still and prevent him from smashing his mask on the hard floor. 

While Grimmjow and Nell managed to limit Ichigo’s movements, they couldn’t immobilize him completely. 

“I don’t know.” Harribel finally admitted and she couldn’t completely hide the uncertainty in her voice. “Whatever is going on, it’s only worsening the damage.” 

“How the fuck do we fix this?” Grimmjow snarled. Ichigo kept spasming so hard, his back didn’t even reach the tiles anymore. 

“I-I don’t know if we can. The Reiatsu in his leg is still-” Harribel rasped out. “Maybe we’re not supposed to fix this.” 

Grimmjow huffed in exasperation, grabbing her arm just to make sure she kept her gaze on him. 

“I’m just saying, maybe they wanted him dead for a reason.” 

Grimmjow flinched at the words, his fingers digging into the meat of her arm. “What do you mean exactly?” 

Harribel sighed, then turned her gaze towards Kurosaki’s convulsing body. “Maybe this isn’t the Kurosaki we used to know.” She said and for the first time she let Grimmjow see the sadness she truly felt. 

Grimmjow’s eyes were blown wide, she couldn’t be serious. “The fuck-” Grimmjow glared, his eyes boring into her like shards of glass. 

Before Grimmjow could get angry, Kurosaki went completely boneless under his grip. 

“Shit.” He muttered to himself. Letting go of Harribel’s arm, he turned his attention back to Kurosaki. Sure, the spasms had stopped but something felt off. 

Kurosaki was still breathing, a slow rattling hum in Grimmjow’s ears, but that didn’t ease the feeling of dread bubbling up in Grimmjow’s chest. 

“Shit.” Grimmjow muttered, repositioning himself so he was straddling Ichigo’s hips. 

He glanced down at his hands; covered in an almost sticky layer of dried blood. He took a deep breath before steeling his thoughts. He wasn’t going to give up, Kurosaki deserved better. 

“Nell, continue with his leg.” Grimmjow demanded while he gently pushed his hands onto the bandage that covered Ichigo’s chest. He pulled in a shuddering breath and focused on Ichigo’s Reiatsu, the fabric under his palm wet and hot. 

“You there Kurosaki?” He was about to ask how this was supposed to work when he felt the faint pull of energy. Fuck, Kurosaki suddenly felt so warm. So different from the shuddering cold radiating off of him when Grimmjow had found him covered in blood on the white sands. 

“Is it working?” Harribel asked tentatively. 

“I-I’m not sure.” Grimmjow admitted, even as he felt the pull on his own reiatsu. “I can feel a strange energy but I don’t know if it’s even working, I can’t feel a response.” 

“Maybe he doesn’t have a reason to.” Nelliel suddenly piped up. 

“Perhaps.” Harribel commented, leaning back in to watch the faint blue glow radiating from Grimmjow’s hands. 

“Tsk.” Grimmjow scoffed. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.” 

Nell sighed and turned to look at Grimmjow. “It’s not like any of us know what is going on or what has happened. I hate to admit it but we’re just as clueless as you.” Nell softened her voice. “So, go get him. Give him a reason to come back to us.” 

Grimmjow frowned and looked back down at Ichigo’s chest. “I’m trying, damn it.” 

He bit his lip, trying to focus on the faint hum of energy surrounding him. He lowered his head and mumbled, “Ya promised me a fight Kurosaki, and I’m keeping you to that promise.” 

As he closed his eyes, the blue light surrounding his hands started to glow brighter, engulfing Kurosaki’s chest in a cyan bubble of light. 

Grimmjow grit his teeth, spitting out a curse when he noticed the darkness spreading out from the center of Ichigo’s chest and transforming his own blue Reiatsu into an inky black. Eating away was a better description. The bandage on Ichigo’s chest started to bleed black, a strange dark energy oozing out from underneath Grimmjow’s fingers and wrapping itself around his hands. 

“Fuck, Kurosaki.” Grimmjow started, trepidation dripping from his voice, “You’re not dragging me down with you, asshole.” He splayed his hands flat against Ichigo’s chest, pushing his own Reiatsu against the menacing dark coming from the other. “We’re going to find a way to fix all of this mess, ya hear me. You and me together damn it. Don’t you dare wallow in whatever self-loathing you got yourself into, no matter what everyone else says.” 

Grimmjow started to laugh, “Remember that time you kicked my ass in the dirt?” A flash of obsidian light erupted from Ichigo’s chest and whisps of reiatsu curled themselves around Grimmjow’s arms like undulating black tentacles. 

Grimmjow grit his teeth then sneered. “Fine, asshole. You completely wiped the floor with me.” 

Grimmjow laughed again, the sound breaking in his throat as that dark Reiatsu began to _dig_ into his skin. “I never even told anyone about this.” He pretended to ignore Harribel's hand on his shoulder but the weight was somewhat comforting. 

“Remember what you said to me that day?” Grimmjow began, “tsk, course you do, ya would rub it in my face during our sparring sessions and I said I couldn’t remember it ever happened. Even said I would strangle you in your sleep if you dared to talk such nonsense again.” 

Grimmjow took a deep breath. “But I do remember. I remember how soft your hand felt against mine. I remember the look in your eyes when you refused to let me fall like the miserable piece of trash everyone else thought I was.” 

Grimmjow swallowed harshly. “You promised me, Kurosaki. Fuck.” Grimmjow groaned as another wave of reiatsu bit into his skin. “You promised me you wouldn’t let me go.” 

Grimmjow let out a long slow breath, his arms shaking with the strain on his spiritual pressure. 

“Well, I'm not letting you go either, so fight damn it!” Grimmjow sneered. “Fight for me, Kurosaki.” He focused all of his Reiatsu onto Ichigo’s and started to push back. 

“You still owe me that fight.” 

*** 

_“Nothing but darkness lies ahead of you Kurosaki.” A voice rang into his ears as if spoken right next to him. _

_“No.” Ichgio snarled. “Just leave me alone. I didn’t want this.”_

_“You can’t escape your fate.”_

_“I- I don’t understand.” Ichigo whispered, “I don’t want this.” He curled his arms around his chest and held back a scream, the darkness around him undulating and pressing down with his emotions. _

_“Your spirit might be broken but you can’t deny the blood on your hands, harbinger, but the more you’re down here, the less you’ll understand. So, get up and go.”_

_“I don’t know how.” Ichigo whispered. He was still alone, left to float into this empty void. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I... please...I can’t do this.” Ichigo rocked back and forth, mumbling to himself._

_“Bound by flesh and sand, freed by blood.” The voice rasped out._

_“Now, will you follow the path of blood or drown in it? Yours or theirs, that choice is up to you.” _

_Ichigo held his hands to his chest, fingers digging in the hem of his Shihakushō. He could feel the torn edges slipping through his fingers, wet and warm and it made him nauseous. He squeezed the soaked fabric, disgusted by the overwhelming scent of copper invading his nostrils. _

_In the all-consuming dark, the sudden brilliance of violent red was disturbing, it gushed from between his fingers in rivers of blinding crimson. _

_“Will you follow or drown? Choose, my child.” The voice echoed in the dark. _

_Ichigo held his hands to his chest, but no matter how hard he tried, the blood kept gushing out from underneath his hand, painting his Shihakushō in streaks of bright red. _

_Ichigo didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t find Zangetsu. His presence had always been a reassurance, a voice to his own deeper wants. Now he wasn’t here. He had been battered and broken but Zangetsu had promised he wouldn’t leave him alone. _

_His chest felt heavy and hollow and he couldn’t even find the courage to get up. Zangestu was his friend, his ally, he understood him in a way nobody else could. _

_For what felt like a long time, Ichigo just stared at the spot before him. He couldn’t even sense his hollow and it nearly made him cry. Blood kept oozing from his chest, the warm sanguine liquid sticking to his clothes like shiny red glue._

_Murky shadows dwelled at the edge of his vision; rippling, reaching hungrily for the pool of blood every time he blinked. The shadows reached out for his skin, wispy tentacles burying deep into the weeping wound on his chest, and the darkness slammed down on him like a hammer._

_Ichigo struggled to breathe, struggled to move away from the shadows that dug into him. His eyelids felt heavy, his body felt heavy and he couldn’t fight against the force that kept tugging him down. _

_Closing his eyes, he gave in to the pull and suddenly he was falling._

_“CHOOSE.”_

_He couldn’t..._

_He was beaten_

_He was weak..._

_The world around him seemed to dissipate in a blur of red and black. Maybe he’d really died and his inner world was falling apart. Endless falling until his soul would join the reincarnation circle again. He looked around him in solemn despair, guess this was his end. Ichigo couldn’t help the sick feeling in his stomach. He’d always expected to die somewhere with a sword clenched in his fist and a sense of honor. A true warrior's death. This was something else, this was just... wrong. _

_Ichigo started to cough up more blood. He watched it spill across his chest and color the surrounding darkness in a haze of bright vermillion as it collected in thin rivulets before it blurred out of existence again._

_“Fight for me, Kurosaki.”_

_He lifted his head up, eyes trying to focus on where that sound came from. Something small and blue twirled and twisted in the distance before swirling closer in a bright haze of cyan. _

_“You promised me...”_

_Ichigo’s eyed widened. That voice sounded familiar. This was- he knew that fucking voice._

_Grimmjow!_

_He didn’t even have the strength to think about how and why- and just on instinct he reached out for the light. With a tremendous effort, he managed to wrap his fingers on the strange glowing band, holding tight with a strength he thought he didn’t have anymore. Tentatively, he gave a small tug on the band until he was sure it wouldn’t break. He glanced up at the bright fabric wrapped around his hand, it reminded him of the white Reiraku bands he’s seen before in his inner world._

_Not like this he thought, I’m not going to die like this. _

_With a grimace, he pulled the ribbon close to his chest and held it tight. In a flash of blinding light, the fabric started to wrap itself around his chest and arms, taking a hold of his body. _

_Ichigo howled in pain as the shadows dug into the meat of his thigh and up past his hips. “Get off me!” Ichigo screeched, the sound cutting through the velvet silence._

_“Get off, get off!” Ichigo trashed, using what little strength he had left in his tired body to fight back against-whatever the fuck that shit was. He couldn’t understand what that thing wanted-that raspy voice. Didn’t want to understand any of this. He didn’t want to drown here in this endless darkness that made him feel so heavy. He couldn’t give up, he promised- he promised Grimmjow._

_Everything ached but he kept squirming and trashing against the grip of that...that thing. He could hear his own heart hammering around in his chest, the sound loud enough to ring in his ears. He didn’t know how much time had passed, seconds or minutes maybe but they still felt like endless hours until he felt a surge of power wash over him; feral, cold and powerful. _

_All he had was a guess but this unmistakably felt like Grimmjow. With a deafening roar, the light flooded his retinas and all he could see was blue._

_“You will have to choose eventually, my child! You can’t keep running.” The voice taunted from within the dark. _

Ichigo opened his eyes in shock. 

“About damn time, Kurosaki.” Grimmjow rumbled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thought you were gone for good.” 

“Takes...more than that to kill me...” Ichigo panted, closing his eyes as his body went limp. 

“You need to rest.” Grimmjow said, running a hand through orange sticky hair. It stuck up weird, covered in blood and drying sweat. “Because whatever is going on with you...” 

He glanced down at Ichigo’s leg, breath falling from his lungs as his eyes raked over blackened, sticky blood drying on what was left of the muscles in his thigh. The edge of a pale bone was visible under blackish goo, stark against the muddled mess of blood and gore. Grimmjow winced at the sight, but at least the ichor had stopped spreading for now. 

“...it ain’t over yet.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... I made everything even worse I guess.  
I'm not done with this fic, there's so much I have planned. It will all make sense eventually, I promise. Who's the strange voice? How will SS react? Stay tuned for more ;-)
> 
> Kudos and comments are what feeds my poor starved soul.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos give me life :-)


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